Log:Ensorcelling Family

Ensorcelling Family
Where is my cousin? Are you just pretending to be him? What do you gain from all this? Why the trickery? Who ARE you people?
Participants Olivia Utridge, Velvet, Weaver Utridge	18 June, 2018 The cat's outta the bag.
Location Southern Lakeshore
The rest of the night and well into the morning, Velvet slept. It was fitful, and probably not that fun for Weaver with her tossing and throwing of hands in her sleep. Especially since they fell asleep on the couch. By the time she wakes up, she looks dishevelled and still not at all like herself. She's in boxers and had pulled on a tank top to hide the wounds across her stomach. But the bulk of the guaze over it is still noticable. A massive pot of coffee has been brewed, and the woman is currently downing a cup, with another one settled in front of her, just waiting. Olivia got SOME sleep, but there was plenty of weird going on that she didn't sleep terribly well either. She wakes likely with fewer muscle kinks and cramps than the pair who were on the couch, but it isn't HER bed. And she's still processing a bit. Eventually, she too gets out of bed and makes her way to the kitchen. The source of coffee. Without a change of her own clothes, she's wearing the same thing she wore last night, albeit a lot more rumpled now. "Coffee," she mumbles as she steps into the kitchen, searching for mugs. Weaver is still sleeping for just a few moments longer. With the couch now free he does what any dragon would. He claims it as dominion by sprawling all over it. Just a t-shirt and pyjama pants for him as he snores. Loudly. Olivia is lucky enough not to see the constant pillars of smoke rising from his nostrols as he sleeps oh so noisily. Ever so often he mutters something about it all being his and refusing to share. It might have made it harder to sleep when Velvet had her fit the night before, with the screaming and cutting one of the dead men's bodies into little pieces in the yard. But it was calm after that, and the mess was cleaned up by Weaver. The little boy is still asleep in the master bedroom, probably for the best at the moment. Velvet's blue eyes move towards Olivia as she comes in, giving her a nod. "Good job with the fire yesterday," she murmurs. "I have a dress that might fit you." Because with their size difference, there's no way any of her pants will do the trick. "Fire is nice," Olivia says a bit blearily. She isn't fully awake. A mug is finally found and retrieved, then filled with coffee before she plunks herself down across the table from Velvet. The hot liquid is sipped carefully and she squints a bit at the offer of a dress, puzzled for a moment before she looks down at herself. "Eh? Oh. Yeah sure, but I'm not out to impress anyone today." Pause. "I don't think I am, anyway. Weird plans today?" "Fire is nice," Velvet agrees with a slow incline of her head. She's not being careful with the drink, just letting it burn its way down so that she can get it into her as much as possible. "Weird plans today?" Is she just mimicking at this point? She blinks slowly. "Body disposal. Don't worry, I'll make sure that your car trunk is spotless," she assures. Olivia squints one eye a bit at Velvet, peering at her. "Body disposal," she echoes. "Is this like... normal for you?" It isn't normal for her. None of this is normal. "Why are there bodies to dispose of? And why are we stealing children from a hospital?" "This is normal for me. Though it doesn't usually happen in hospitals, or like that." Velvet looks down at her drink, eyes narrowing in thought. "Those men in the trunk. They were kidnapping children to sell into a sort of slavery. There should have been more dead bodies, but I couldn't get to the rooms in time. I could only save one." She sighs at the mention of stealing children. "It's complicated. I could come up with some big extravagent lie, but I really don't want to." She grabs a bagel and chucks it at Weaver. "Wake up." Once beset upon by baked goods Weaver stirs from his slumber. He stares at it long and hard. Probably a little too hard. Clearly, this bagel must be one destined to teach him the error of his ways, and allow him to see the mysteries of the universe. Or, not. He looks up to stare into the kitchen. First Velvet. Then Olivia. His narrowed, sleepy gaze doesn't betray much, and eventually he decides that it the bagel came from Olivia and chucks it her way before trying to lie back down. "Kidnapping children. Out of a hospital. With security and 24/7 staff." Olivia stares at Velvet, not entirely sure if she believes that. But why would Velvet lie to her? She sips the coffee again, considering. Weaver isn't really given a second glance until the bagel is hurled in her direction and she jumps at the sudden assault. "Hey, what the hell?! What was that for?" The bagel is about to ping Olivia, Velvet's hand snapping out to catch it right out of the air and whip it right back at the man. Her aim is remarkable. "Weaver. Wake up. It's time to give Liv some answers." She glances back towards the woman. "Real answers." Her tone is heavy at that. "That entire time I was with you in the hospital, did you see me?" she wonders. "If I can sneak past all of that, why couldn't someone else?" Weaver groans at first when his name is called again. Then growls when he's told to wake up again. He pushes himself upwards with a grunt, and eventually sits up. He blinks slowly while staring over to Velvet. "I've been woken up five times tonight. Once by Liv, again by you outside, and three times last night." Beat. "My favorite being the head butt because I probably did do something to deserver, but I'm not 100% sure what." After more grumbling under his breath he crosses over into the kitchen. He grabs the coffee pot's handle, looking as if he's ready to drink straight from it until he catches sight of Olivia again. "Oh. Right. Naswers. Yes, Liv, you are adopted. The end." "I don't know," Olivia says with a shrug. "You were watching CCTV as far as I know. You were just texting me." She rubs at her eyes, peering between the two of them. Both hands wrap firmly around her mug as she blinks blearily at them. "Well you hucked a bagel at me. So that's probably one thing you did to deserve that." Her eyes roll at the mention of being adopted and she huffs indignantly. "Uh huh." "If it makes you feel better, you can sleep all by yourself tonight," Velvet offers Weaver in a flat tone. She still has that strange look in her eyes from the night before, like all of the 'her' has left, and she's just a shell at the moment. "Could you please pledge your cousin so we can move forward?" she asks with a sigh. "Or do you want me to do it?" She sets down her cup, grabbing the next one and starting to chug. For the time being he actually acts like a normal person, and pours his coffee into a mug. Weaver sighs after Velvet's response. "Alright, alright. No more fucking around, Vee, but I'd prefer you do to do it." He then looks over to Olivia. "Because I think right after she's gonna trust you a whole lot more than she trusts me." Pledge? Olivia doesn't look like she has any understanding of what they're talking about. There's a quiet scoff at the mention of trust and she shakes her head. "Please. Just because you're occasionally an asshole doesn't mean I don't trust you." She sinks down into a slouch at the table; sitting up straight requires effort. "You're both being fucking weird. And that's saying something, coming from me." "I don't think she'll be fond of either of us after this, Weaver, but fine." Velvet studies Olivia, her head inclining. "We are weird. Much more so than you know. I'm going to tell you everthing about everything. But in exchange I'm going to need to you to promise to keep it a secret. I'm going to open your eyes to something you aren't going to be able to close them to afterwards." There's no teasing in Velvet's tone as she stares at Liv. "If you want all the answers and truths, then this is your path. "By my true name, I grant you sight. See the things of dream and wonder with eyes opened like the blossom of the rose. By your true name, you grant me the right to ask a boon, within the cycle of that moon. Swear that you shall grant it to me, so long as it does not bring you harm. Swear that you will keep this knowledge beneath the rose. And let he who is forsworn in this wake to find the thorns of this oath in him. Madness and ill luck follow you if you are false; I shall grant thee a boon, and be followed by misfortune should I prove false. Do you agree? Are you sure you want to see what's on the other side? Be sure. Say yes, and I'll show you the way to the people who've hidden themselves from you all along. You'll get one moon, one month. But be sure. Swear it on your name that you won't tell anyone else, or you'll wish you'd never met me." Velvet holds her hand out towards Olivia. Olivia stares at Velvet as she speaks. It's very pretty prose, really. She has no idea the significance of it. She blinks almost owlishly, staring at the other woman as she processes what's been asked of her. "Uh." A sideways look is shot in Weaver's direction, watching her cousin for a moment before looking back towards Velvet. "I understood most of what you said, I think. And I thought I was the weird one." She considers for a moment before reaching over to take Velvet's hand. "Alright. Might as well." Weaver stands there, coffe mug in hand as the two talk. "It's not for me to step in, but you need to swear on your name. Your true name. The one you go by and were given at birth." To that he sounds stadfast and sure. "You should also really hold to that promise, too. Trust me." "Just say, I swear on my true name; Olivia Utrdige. Assuming that's it." Velvet's true name given at birth when she shares it? Baby Jane Doe. The owlish look is to be expected from Olivia so Velvet doesn't seem terribly surprised. But then, she doesn't seem terribly anything other than blank at the moment. So it might be a little offputting. As Olivia takes the hand, the pledge is sealed and the glamour trickles from Velvet into Olivia, granting her the ability to very suddenly see the truth of their Lost nature." Velvet drops the hand, letting it sink in for a moment. "I don't HAVE any aliases, Weaver," Olivia tells him, looking a bit confused before looking back towards Velvet. "That's it." The affirmation is given with a slight nod to Velvet. "Alright. I swear on my true name, Olivia Utridge." As her vision shifts slightly, Olivia blinks a few times, rapidly. Slowly, her hand withdraws as Velvet releases it, and she flicks her gaze between the two of them. "Um. What? What is... this?" She gestures absently between the two of them, eyes getting a bit wider. The what of it is answered quickly enough. Weaver appears before her, as she saw in the hospital that night. His skin covered in pitch black scales. The eyes, at least, are different: they're a milky grey that are almost transcluscent, and appear more ghostly than human. Smoke billows from his mouth and nose as he breathes, disappearing as quickly as it leaves him like warmth in the winter. Oddest of all are the wings at his back, bunched up there while indoors. The shadow behind him is his own, at least, although it grows in size and appears to be alive and betraying his true draconic nature wholesale. "Please don't freak out," he says with a mouth full of sharp teeth. Weaver lifts a clawed hand in her direction, and sets his mug on the counter. "Just take a few deep breaths and try not to scream." Velvet's appearance is far more docile. Her eyes are glowing pools of blue light, with those long ears protruding from either side of her head. Her blonde hair is a far more striking white that goes well past her hips. There are little shimmers along her features every now and then, altering in shape or appearance for a few moments before returning to 'normal'. Both of the lost exude a raw sort of energy. The weight of it is thick in the air. "This is the real us, which is something hidden from normal sight. Only when you've gone through the same changes we have, or have been given glamour like I just gave you, are you able to see through the Mask." The coffee mug in her hands is slowly, carefully, set down on the table. "I'm not freaking out," Olivia says quietly, though there is noticable strain in her tone. She WANTS to freak out. She looks back towards Velvet as she offers up an explanation, but it does little to actually EXPLAIN the situation. "I don't understand," she finally says before peering back over at Weaver. "Where is my cousin? Are you just pretending to be him? What do you gain from all this? Why the trickery? Who ARE you people?" "No, I am your cousin, and this time you get to see me. The real me. We have a mask, that's what you've been seeing." He looks down briefly, and with a sigh looks back tup to Olivia. "The same one that wants to help you with your fire. The same one that had to do all of that stupid fucking ballet when we were kids." Then the wings unfurl and Weaver looks her dead in the eye. "I was taken by something I don't think you could really understand, and this is what I was forced in-" He stops for a moment, correcting, "This is what I am." "The Trickery is to keep us safe. If everyone could see us for what we truly looked like, how well do you think that would go?" Velvet steps back, taking Weaver's arm so that he moves with her. She walks him back towards the couch to sit, and offers a seat for Olivia as well. Giving her space for now, and the option to come sit with them if she wants. "It's a lot to explain in one go, but I'm going to try my best," she promises. "We are called Changelings. You know those olds stories about evil faeries who stole children from their beds and brought them into horrible, fantastic worlds? We are the children that were stolen, and then managed to escape. What we look like are because of adaptations that were forced on us where we were stolen to." Olivia purses her lips, fingertips gently drumming on the surface of the table. Weaver knows things, to be certain. She can't help but lean back a bit in her seat as the wings unfurl, making him look a little more imposing than he already does. "I see," she says carefully before turning her attention back towards Velvet. The redhead lets them go to the couch, turning slightly to watch them, but not quite prepared to sit yet. "That sounds like something out of a storybook. Which I think is the point. Maybe. I have no idea what's happening." Now that the cat's out of the bag Weaver no longer goes about playing along. He reaches for the coffee pot now, and lifts it too his lips. He then downs as much of the steaming brew as he can before setting it back on the eye. "It's not always that simple, too. I've met some that don't even make a lick of fucking sense. I'm talking shit like tentacle wings and five eyes. Some of us also got off fairly lucky. Especially the ones that escaped. And the me you saw well before? When I got kinda weird before you went out to New York? That wasn't me. It was some copy of me made of God knows what the fuck. Some of 'em are made of straw and sticks, even saw one made of computer shit and wires when the real him ki-" Nope. Not tonight. "Anyway, that's what that boy you all brought here is." Velvet reaches out to touch Weaver's hand as he explains. "That might be too much too soon," she warns gently as he starts going into Fetches. She lifts her hands up to scrub at her face before falling back against the couch with a sigh. "Liv. What's the biggest, most burning question in your mind right now? I promise we'll answer what we can." Olivia stares at the two of them on the couch, eyes flicking between the two of them. "Tentacle wings and five eyes," she echoes a bit flatly. "I... okay." She sets her coffee mug down on the table and gets up onto her feet, beginning to rummage around the kitchen. Despite the fact that she's not actively watching them, she is listening. Though the question she has may not be the most expected. "Where's the liquor?" Weaver lifts his hand to object while drinking the rest of the steaming coffee from the still hot coffee pot. It's set down with a happy sigh, and he moves to plop on the floor. "I'm not promising that. Some things I still can't and won't tell you. We just have some wine in the fridge, but leave the moonshine bottle alone. That has some shit in there you won't be able to handle." "Well, /I/ will tell you what I can," Velvet offers with a frown in Weaver's direction. She gets up from the couch with a little wince and moves towards the fridge. She pulls out a couple of bottles and sets them out on the counter. "There might be some vodka behind the glassware too, in that cabinet." then she's making her way back towards the living room. "Those guys in the trunk aren't going to look human to you anymore either," she warns. Though, one of them is mostly just chunks of meat at this point. "Oh please," Olivia tells Weaver, giving him a dry look. That shifts into a mixed 'wtf?' expression as she peers back at her cousin. She is not used to the way either of them look right now. Velvet is given a bit more personal space than Olivia usually gives the petite woman, but she doesn't run away. Olivia goes over to the cabinet pointed out to her, pulling it open and retrieving both glass and vodka. She considers her options for a few moments before pouring a few separate glasses, a little bit of everything without mixing it. One glass is raised and poured down her throat before being set back down on the table. It's early morning still, but who cares? "Because they're like you guys," she says slowly, rolling one hand, attempting to extrapolate. "How... many... are there?" "Vee, baby, I think you mean guy. Singular," Weaver points out with a yawn. "You kinda, yeah. Just one guy, though. Do you mean how many people are like us?" He shrugs, a brief smile forming on his lips. "If you mean on the whole world, no fucking idea. If you mean just the city a good number. Ones I know you know are us too, and the doctor and nurse I had look after you are too. That's all I can think of. For now at least." "Your Uncle Ben," Velvet adds with a look of 'how can you forget your own family' in Weaver's direction. There's a little growl as Olivia compares those guys in the trunk to them. "They are also Lost, which is what we call ourselves. But they are nothing like me. Those men are monsters. They steal children from their hospital beds to bring them to be enslaved and tortured. I /stop/ that sort of thing. So no, they are not like me." That seems to be a big sticking point for the woman. Olivia nods slowly as Weaver tries to ballpark some numbers. Things she can expect. She picks up another one of the glasses, drinking the contents of that one now. One eye squints a bit as Velvet growls and she peers at the woman cautiously. The difference is explained, but functionally, it doesn't seem to make that much difference to her. She looks like she has a question before the name processes. "Wait, Uncle Ben, too?" Her brows rise incredulously and she rubs one hand lightly over her face. "So then... Lost... and kidnappers. Same like... species... but different morals? Or are they rules?" "I know, but he's also private and a lot weirder about who does and doesn't know him." Weaver's finger goes to his lip then as his flutter and lid over. Another yawn comes. "Lets go with Changelings. I know why we're called Lost and all that, but I can say I found my way a long time ago." He doesn't elucidite on the why of that. "We're all kinds of different and strange, just like regular people. Weirder and Wyrder, but still." "The kidnappers are still called Lost. But they're also called Loyalists or Privateers. Privateers kidnap and sell people for personal profit. Loyalists do it to make their Keeper happy. Keeper being what we call the big bads who tortured, changed, and twisted us into what you see." Velvet gestures over herself. "Those men in the trunk are called Nightmares, the Loyalists that come from the Keeper that took me. They got away with two of the children." Her voice is strained and angry at that. "Yeah, like he said, Changelings is the official word for us. Most prefer Lost." "Yeah, but do either of you think it'd be a good idea for me to be surprised by seeing Uncle Ben suddenly..." Olivia pauses, gesturing around her face. "...suddenly different?" She sighs heavily and closes her eyes briefly, pressing her fingers against her eyes. "So you get taken by things called Keepers, they change you into... that... Changelings... Lost... whatever. You don't like your Keepers. Some of them do. Am I more or less following?" More liquor, of course. Olivia drinks it more slowly now, though, watching the two of them. "Some of us end up like that because we plain don't know any better. After your brain get scrambled enough it gets real easy to see the guy, gal, or whatever the fuck over you to seem like your best fucking buddy. It's a real abusive relationship on the best of fucked up days." Weaver drifts off a bit after explaining further, but he's just resting his eyes. Honest. "Don't damn 'em all, but don't lose any sleep if you gotta put one of the chucklefucks down like the sick dogs they are." "You're following well," Velvet assures Olivia with a nod. "Weaver is right. Have you heard of stockholm syndrome? It's very much along those lines. There's only so much your mind can handle before it snaps. And for some of us, they never snap back. The only way to get out is to escape or to become a Loyalist. But as a Loyalist, you are still bound to the rules of the Keeper, and you have to go out and fetch fresh victims. Weaver and I both managed to escape." Olivia nods at Velvet's question of Stockholm Syndrome. "Yeah." She finishes off the glass in her hand and plunks herself down in one of the chairs, seeming to be a bit calmer. Whether it's due to the booze or the answers may be hard to say. "So they fuck you up, but you end up basically brain-fried, so they don't seem so bad. Unless you manage to pull yourself together and get out? Like... do you have a halfway house for people running? And how the hell am I supposed to tell the difference between say... you guys, and the kidnappers?" "It's kinda like that, yeah. In my case it was simple. I had to-" Now Weaver opens his eyes again, fully awake to explain this to his cousin. "In my case I had to fight and kill my way out. I don't feel a damn bit shame about it, nor an ounce of pitty for the ones I killed. That's how I got mine. Some people gotta scratch and claw their way back to it. We do have halfway houses and shit, too. Some times. It's not the same in every city. As for how to tell the difference it goes with promises, but you still never know. It helps to stay on your toes and just be a bit paranoid about everybody you meet. Because even all of us can fake it out looking human to each other." With that said he reverts back to the man she's used to seeing. "I was broken for a while," Velvet offers. "It took them years of constant torture to get me to that point, but eventually they sent me out into his little world to kill for his pleasure. Just... whoever I could get my hands on. I saw people running one day, trying to escape, and a piece of me snapped back into place. I stalked them out, and then ran with them until I found myself back in this world." She nods at Weaver's warning. "There are those of us, like me, who can change how they appear. What you're looking at now, it isn't the real way that I look. But the real me is... not something I let people see. Even myself, most of the time. So there's plenty of people who can blend and shift, and lie. You just have to be paranoid, and trust your gut." More liquor is raised to her lips as Weaver shifts back into the more familiar face she's used to. It should be comforting, but it's actually more unnerving. Olivia purses her lips a bit and puffs out a small breath as they tell her their stories. "So don't trust anyone. That's a great way to live. Not unsettling at all." She gives Weaver an almost accusatory look. "Why did you want me to come back to this mess?" Well, at least she seems to have accepted WHO he is. "So what, exactly, am I supposed to do now? Because this is a whole new level of weird. I mean, I thought -I- was weird." Weaver stands again, moving to stand beside Velvet as she explains. "It's not the different than real life, but it helps to find people you can love, trust, and be yourself around. Completely. I'm not any more fucking paranoid than I was before aside from some business issues, but that isn't a fucking bit specific to me being what Iam." What he is right now is still human-looking. "And you are weird, Liv. You could try cooking me alive with your brain. I wanted you here because you're my family, and you're one of the few people on this planet I can trust with my life or anything else and to help you with what you can do now." Velvet reaches out to take Weaver's hand, twisting her fingers in his. "You're the first mortal person I've told about what I am and who we are. I haven't done this before, so I don't know exactly what to tell you to help you understand where to go next. I just know that things are dangerous, and I couldn't let you keep walking around with half the story, and no way to be on the lookout for danger. Especially after what you saw last night. And I didn't want you thinking that I was going around kidnapping children." She glances towards their bedroom where the Fetch is still sleeping. "He is created by them to take the place of the person they steal. That way nobody knows the difference. He doesn't know what he is. Despite the fact that he's a... construct, nothing more than twigs and buttons formed into a child, he has a conciousness. He can make decisions, have emotions. Most people will just outright kill a Fetch." But clearly she couldn't. "Some kind of hardened assassin I am." "I don't know a lot of people," Olivia says, giving a slow shake of her head. "I've not always tried to make friends. Casual relationships usually work just fine for my purposes." She looks between them as Weaver stands beside Velvet, the pair looking a bit peculiar in their current state. "I can also burn your pizza for free." Her gaze focuses on Velvet, watching the other woman as she speaks. "Well... thank you? I think?" she says, squinting one eye thoughtfully. "I mean, I'm not one for telling other peoples' secrets. But this..." One hand rises, gesturing towards the pair of them. "...seems significant to be sharing. It's just kind of overwhelming." Her head turns slightly, looking over towards the bedroom. "That kid isn't a person? So then what are you supposed to do with it?" Weaver nods to the affirmative with Velvet's wordsm and gives her hand a slight squeeze. "I don't share much at all," which isn't much of an admission for his horribly selfish ways from youth. "I know I can trust you not to say anything, but at the same time I don't know what type of danger telling you might do." Then he smiles, in his usual way as an asshole. "This time the danger isn't something that might come from me, so it's different. Oh, two things. The kid is and isn't a person. It's complicated. Also, you know that dog? For a while I had it replaced with a friend of mine while I took care of the real one." "Very significant," Velvet agrees. "But I have a feeling you'd be in more danger not knowing, than knowing. People with family members who are Lost tend to be picked for snagging. A way to run salt in the wound. Better that you know and can be on the lookout this way." Her face is grim at that. "As for the boy, we're still trying to figure out what the best thing to do is. Most people would just kill him. We're thinking adoption of some sort. But we'd have to get him a new identity first." "The dog?" Olivia looks confused at the seemingly random mention of the small creature. "What did you do? What do you mean 'took care' of it?" She flicks her gaze back towards Velvet, nodding after a moment of thought. "I guess, yeah. At least now I can watch for... weirdness?" She isn't entirely sure what else to call it. "You want to just let him go? As for a new identity, if he has his own thoughts, how is a new identity supposed to work? What if he doesn't want to do that?" "As in fed, bathed, and deal with that mongrel trying to lick my face. As for replacing, it's easy. A lot of us can turn into animals, and even I can still change - just not in the same way." He drops his mask once more, happy to let his wings furl out again. "Just try not to stare at people when you see it. Because it /is/ rude. So, when you do get caught staring tell them that they're the ugliest son of a bitch you've seen." Velvet gives Olivia a sad look for a moment. It's not natural for her face, she doesn't make it often. "I don't know," she admits. "I should have just killed him. But it's a kid." Glowing eyes lift to Weaver for a moment, her head shaking before she looks back to Liv. "How do you explain any of this to a kid? We figured he'll stay with us for a little while at least, so we can watch his behavior, explain what we can. See where we go from there, I guess." "I'm a grown-ass adult and I don't know if I've had enough liquor for this," Olivia tells Velvet. "I have no idea what you'd say to a kid. I can't really help you with that one." She shakes her head a bit and runs her fingers through her hair. "Don't stare? Really? How am I supposed to NOT stare? None of this is like... not-stareable. And I don't think everyone's going to be ugly if you two are any indication. I get the impression that insulting people just because isn't going to serve me well." Weaver waves off the notion, and laughs. "I've done it a lot. I may not be allowed in certain cities without a chance of death or some shit, but it ain't that bad. And if anyone so much as laid a finger on you I'd personally rip their throat out, and feed them to Rilec." He smiles, widely so and in turn flashes those ever so sharp teeth. "As for what tell it-" He clears his throat. "I mean him. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. Until then the bastard can sleep in my bed." "There's never enough liquor," Velvet assures softly. "I was poisoned a /lot/ in my time in Arcadia. Which is the name of the place where the Keepers kept us. "So I have a strong tolerance when it comes to poisons. Even the self inflicted ones. It's why when you see me drink I can take down bottles instead of shot glasses. Because that's what it takes to get the job done." Which is expensive. "Honestly, don't listen to Weaver. Just be as respectful as possible. TRY not to stare. I know it'll be tough. But I can switch forms and let you practice on me a lot if you need." She sighs. "We have abilities too, obviously. I was next to you for most of the hospital trip when we were walking." Olivia can't help but quirk a small smile at the defensive statement Weaver gives. That hasn't changed, at least. She downs another glass of liquor and pushes herself up slowly onto her feet. "I never listen to Weaver," she says, albeit not terribly seriously. "The thing... boy?... is sleeping in your bed, but I need to go back to sleep now, I think. Or something. I'll try, I guess, but I have no idea what I'm going to get thrown at me. I don't know what's going to happen or what I'm going to see. And that's probably what's going to be the biggest problem; not knowing." "Go sleep, Liv. You're still welcome to use the guest room, but your car is a bit indisposed. At least until that body gets gotten rid of, and your car gets a thorough cleaning. Don't worry, I got someone on it." He smiles, and gives her a quick thumbs up. It's clear he's not gonna answer fully on that. "Don't worry, though. I'll cook everybody breakfast in the morning." Which means a lot more black food than any human can handle.